mirror
by KissedbyDirt
Summary: "Ah, Ygritte," Jon said, as he ghosted his fingers along her sides, "I should've known you'd be here to screw with my peaceful Sunday evening." Game of Thrones, Modern AU. Dirt. Smut. Soot. Readers take warning.


KissedbyDirt here, for a little update.

You should know this is dirty, and I was bored, and I was fifteen.  
I'm sixteen now. For what it's worth, this is an okay fic, but I might've done better.  
If you're old enough to like Game of Thrones, though, you'll be fine reading this. Nothing too shocking.

You _might_ be interested to know that this was my first smut, the first that I'd ever finished.  
I'd be more proud if it wasn't total shit; what a shame.  
I've been trying to write pornography for a while now... to no avail.

* * *

 **-MIRROR-**

On weekends, the frequent Thursday, Ygritte could only think of how she'd rather be having sex than doing nothing.

 _I could always have a go at myself,_ Ygritte thought, fussing with the hem of her skirt...  
... _but compared to the real stuff, she decided, it's not worth it._

That's when Ygritte looked in the mirror, and thought of paying Jonny-boy a visit.

Ygritte had a way of instigating- she'd stumble to Jon's room unannounced; she'd welcome herself.

Jon would be reading the best kind of whatever he devoted his time to. Nothing better to do turned into _Blink, 1984,_ or something else Tarly recommended- it was usually good. Jon got so wrapped up in it all... come the vortex, usually a couple hundred pages in, he simply couldn't be interrupted.

 _Nothing better to do?_

"There's always me," Ygritte would pout. "Wrap yourself up in me. Put that paper tale away and read me, instead. With your dick."

This sort of passage always took Jon's breath away and filled him with nervous laughter. She made him feel stupid and embarrassed at the same time. Despite this, he couldn't ignore the increasing tension of his groin- more often than not, Jon was in awe of Ygritte's forwardness.

This time, however, she said nothing. She removed each of her stocks slow-like, curled them down, past the knees, ankles, a heap on the floor. But Jon didn't take his eyes from the red paperback, not once. She wondered if he was only pretending not to notice. It could be, so she walked right to the side of his bed. Jon's head was propped up on a cake of pillows; his headphones buzzed classic rock.

He smiled when he did see her. Finally, when she swung a leg over him, and sat exactly on his crotch. Jon didn't even have time for a bookmark before Ygritte was straddling him, moving in such a way that stirred him to hardness.

"Mmm, Ygritte," Jon said, as he ghosted his fingers along her sides, "I should've known you'd be here to fuck with my peaceful Sunday evening."

"Aye, you should have." She thrust her hips back and forth a couple times, with a wicked little smile.

This concentrated Jon's attention wonderfully. He no longer cared about the mid-paragraph or the vortex- this was much better than anything Isaac Marion could've fit into his zombie romance novel. He looked into Ygritte's eyes, admired her smile, and the way she held her tongue between her teeth.

Jon was fixated on that mouth, that pretty pink tongue- Ygritte, the first to say _fuck_ and get away with it.

Jon kissed her wet and heavy; plenty of spit. Her return was aggressive; she bit his lip and drew blood.

Jon liked that, so much it scared him.

Ygritte liked that no-one else had ever done it before, or kissed him even.  
At least... no-one else never _been_ with him.  
"Let's do it, then," she said, with a voice like smoke. "You and me; the mirror."

* * *

Two minutes later, and in front of the mirror, Ygritte looked about the same. Her lips were wetter, fuller.  
She'd pinned up her hair without talent; strands of red came out all over the place. Her smile for Jon was toothy and sharp- she reminded Jon of a fox.

There was a clatter- buckle against wood.

Ygritte used one hand to undo the front of his pants, while the other laced fingers in Jon's curly black hair.  
Liplocked, they could hardly adapt to the pace the other was setting.

They broke off only to breathe.

Jon made a hook, under Ygritte's skirt, finding nothing but skin. _My kind of girl._  
This is when he turned her around to face the mirror- no fabric could stop him from taking her when he pleased.

Ygritte couldn't see him, but she could feel him, flirting with her entrance.

Her growls of frustration pleased him a great deal.

"Jon?"

"Ygritte."

"You're going to fuck me? Hard?"

"If that's the way you like it, sweetling," he smirked.

He eased into her. She was wet, and warm: the old promise.

Jon took a precious moment to adapt to her warmth and tightness, his head light with the sensation, but he made no warning of his first thrust.  
Ygritte clenched her teeth together, cursing. Her hands found the mirror for support- it was the loveliest kind of sudden.  
She welcomed Jon, arching her back, taking as much of him inside her as possible.

It was wrong, it was as voyeuristic as hell; Ygritte loved it.  
Jon tried to think why as he moved into her.

 _Come to think of it, my girlfriend gets turned on when she looks at_ herself _in the mirror._

The real stuff was worth it, every time, but sex was never this good.

With each clash of their hips, Ygritte made a sound between a hiss and a growl, but  
it was only when Jon buried himself to the hilt inside of her that she cried his name.

In turn, Jon quickened the force of his manhood. He wanted to melt his beloved Ygritte.  
They were a part of each other; apart from each other.

Two hearts that beat as one, someone had once mocked, but Ygritte didn't care.

For a little while, you're more than just you.

Jon's mount on Ygritte was steady, but their reflection quivered.  
He glanced up to see her face- ablush, an expression of ecstasy- and he nearly came.  
He tried to keep his steady pace, but found himself slipping.

"Ygritte," Jon heard himself say-

"No. I'm not done with you, yet."

His thrusts became shallow, rushed. Ygritte seemed close, but...

"Jon!"

... he came first. Her voice was enough to set him over.  
With a shudder, he filled her with his seed.

 _"Y...gritte?"_

She tightened around him. It set Jon's head ablur.

"F-fuck!"

Like each time she came.

* * *

Afterwards, they stood pressed together, embraced, mutually exhausted.

"I wish you hadn't left me, Jon Snow. I liked the feel of you in there, I did."  
The glass was steamy, but clearing.

Jon couldn't tell the difference. He reddened.

"Ygritte?" His voice was hardly a whisper.

"Jon," she mocked.

"I'd invite you to bed, but my... it's running down your leg,"

Ygritte's eyes fluttered open; Jon felt her heat up, _embarrassed?_

And, incredibly, she shrugged.

"You and me; the shower."

* * *

Alas!  
This is all I came up with, in the small hours of August the 8th.  
I'd love to write a second chapter where Ygritte fucks Jon with the shower curtains open

But all I know is that takes a long time for me to come up with dirt.  
I was in a certain mood when I wrote this.  
So I say _complete_ , for now.

~KissedbyDirt, dirt writer-in-training, maid.


End file.
